


Sinfully Yours

by aliciutza



Series: Death is not a Lover - Oh yes He is [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Demon Sex, Demon!Jon, F/M, Halloween, Hunter!Daenerys, I got inspired by Supernatural the show, Jon is the Lord Commander of Hell, My First Smut, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, SPN fans pls dont hate me, Supernatural Elements, but just borrowed a few elements for my smut to work ha, for my soft bitches, god I hope all the limbs are in the right places, i guess this counts as my submission for Jonerys October event, ok maybe with a bit of plot but more like context, this is as close as I'm gonna get to the Hades/Persephone myth, titty sucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-08-04 01:28:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16337117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliciutza/pseuds/aliciutza
Summary: Jon Snow finds himself being summoned by a beautiful but dangerous woman. Daenerys Targaryen is a demon hunter looking for a precious treasure. He is a demon with a particular set of principles. However, he also has a dick; and he hasn't used it since way before he died.Basically demon smut with some plot (for context).





	Sinfully Yours

**Author's Note:**

> So this happened. The idea got into my head and I really wanted to write my first smut.  
> Thanks a bunch to @LustOnMyFingers for the Jon manip and for making my initial moodboard look much much better - demon!Jon looks delicious! - and to @atetheredmind for doing the quality control on the smut. And to @ValDeCastille for helping out with the title! Love you so much! 
> 
> Without further ado, enjoy!

 

A century later and he still wasn’t used to being summoned. The very first time had been the worst, it felt like the air was being forced out of his entire being, so excruciating that he had thought he was dying all over again. When he had arrived at the crossroads, his mind had been so fuzzy he could barely distinguish the face of the caller. No one even had had the time to brief him – since it all happened so suddenly. He somehow convinced the dishevelled looking lady to wait, to change her mind, to think her decision through. At least his ignorance saved him from a reprimand – his commander couldn’t blame him for the failed deal since he didn’t even know how to make one in the first place. So he got off with a warning to _“never pull something like that again”_ or else he’d have to deal with the King himself.

This time, while less painful, it still felt off. One of his brothers had once told him that the pain usually disappeared the more one was summoned; but this wasn’t the case for him – he was rarely summoned before, and now, less so because of his new position. When he finally regained his material body he was concerned since he was not outside, in the middle of a crossroads, as per usual, but in a shabby cabin instead. An unexpected smell of oranges invaded his nose. _Oranges and something else._ Before he could inhale deeper to get a better read on his surroundings, something moved on the creaky floor.

“Hands where I can see them, scum!” an angry voice came from behind him. He slowly turned, putting his hands up, only to see a young woman with a big wooden crucifix in her left hand and a long shiny sword in her right. It always took about a minute for him to gain his full strength and powers, so he decided against making the first move.

She looked him head to toe, once, twice, _three times_ , as if to make sure he was real. Well, as real as he could be in his current state. Despite her aggressive stance, he wasn’t afraid of her; she looked mystic, hair silver as the figurine on the crucifix, flowing down to her hips, big violet eyes, skin milky and smooth - the light from the two dozen white candles making her look like she was on fire. Jon was thankful for his appearance – unlike some of his brothers, he was able to keep his previous body, and although it still carried the scars of his demise, he was attractive enough to still get hit on by the odd succubus and even by some of his own brothers; not counting the people trying to seduce their way out of a deal.

Her eyes looked shiny in the dim light, but her voice took an even more assertive tone as she spoke for the second time, “State your name and rank.” _This is new_ , he contemplated, of all the things he expected her to say, she wanted to know something as insignificant as his name. “Why?” he defiantly asked.

“I will be the one asking the questions here, so don’t even try me,” she threatened. “I will not ask again.”

Maybe the century of abuse finally caught up with him, twisting him in new ways, because blood rushed to his cock at her commanding tone. “Jon Snow.”

“So I was right, you’re just a bottom feeder, probably a crow.” She looked murderous. “Godsdammit. That bitch, that fucking bitch tricked me.”

Jon said nothing, watching her tiny breakdown with his hands up and eyebrows raised. He involuntarily flinched when she kicked the chair beside her, but not because he was afraid of her. “No matter. I take what I can get, even if it means wasting precious time on a non important demon such as yourself.”

 _That hurt_. He took a step closer, “You’ve already insulted me twice. And I could have snapped your pretty neck the moment you summoned me, yet I didn’t.” Even he was surprised by the growl lacing his words. “I’m not very keen on hunters, but from what I can already tell, you’re either not a very smart one, or a very clumsy one, at best,” he took another step. “I’m not about to tell you how to do your job, but still, I’m most disappointed,” he continued, his voice dropping to a gruff, but when he tried taking a third step, he was met by an invisible wall. “What the...”

She smirked, “I’m your very first encounter with a hunter? Aw, sweetie, I’m touched,” she said in a honeyed voice, taking the hand with the crucifix to her heart, in a mock gesture. “Unfortunately it is also your last, it seems.” Real panic was settling in, the realisation making his skin crawl. His eyes flashed to their true form, not caring about his appearance anymore, since his very existence was threatened.

“Such pretty eyes, too,” she tsked, shaking her head, “too bad, because I’m rather liking the all black look - black hair, black suit, black shirt, black tie, black eyes.” She almost sounded joyful while she admired his fashion sense. “You came dressed to impress,” she tauntingly said, taking a step closer to him, further teasing him. Her eyes slowly shot up then, and he involuntarily followed her gaze – there it was, on the decayed wooden ceiling, a huge Devil’s trap drawn in white chalk, and he stepped right into it. He was the stupid one, after all.

“Well, best get on with it, I wouldn’t want to impose,” his voice was darker than he meant, his sarcasm a bit excessive. “What’s it going to be, exorcism? Or are you going to use that blade on me? I’d rather just be exorcised, if it’s the same to you, I’m not very fond of blades…”

“You’re being rude again,” she interrupted. “But we’re getting ahead of ourselves. First – I need information.”

“So you’re going to torture me first,” he huffed, almost disappointed. But he was – he was so fucking disappointed, in himself, for not being keen enough to smell a trap from the moment he came in, for being drawn to a beautiful woman just like a freshly turned demon. But that part of him was still very much alive; and it had been so long since he…

“Or you could just offer me the information I need,” she interrupted him, her tone laced with honey, “like the good demon you are.” His cock grew harder, and he closed his eyes, biting hard on his cheeks to stifle a moan. _Since when did he feel this need to please?_ “And I won’t have to use this precious blade on your pretty face,” she continued.

“But first things first,” she turned to the table to where she kicked the chair, putting the crucifix and the sword down, and coming back with a long rope. He gulped. “I’ll tie you down now, if it’s all the same to you, I don’t want you to hurt yourself when I’m exorcising you.”

“How _considerate_ of you,” he said, staring directly into her violet eyes – his still two bottomless pits of nothing. “May I at least get a chair?”

She rolled her eyes, but picked up the chair and slowly pushed it inside the circle. “Move _slowly_ ,” she commanded, and again, he eagerly obeyed. He moved the chair a bit closer to her, and slowly sat down, knees apart and leaning on the backrest. The hunter was watching his every move, her gaze lingering a bit too much on his crotch, and Jon smirked, aware that his erection was very much visible at that point.

She must have realised that he caught her red handed, because she quickly moved a step back, effectively putting some distance between them.

“Hands back,” she instructed, then moved behind him. He could feel the coarse rope on his wrists, pain slightly emanating from his shoulders, as she pulled his hands further back, roughly tying him. It was uncomfortable, but feeling her soft hands brush against him only furthered his arousal. A moan escaped his lips when she pulled on the knot to check that it was secured – he cursed himself and hoped that she blamed it on his annoyance instead. To his surprise, she circled back in front of him, looking unfazed by his obvious slip. As much as he’d love to fuck her senseless, he had to admit that, for the first time in a few decades, he was scared. She seemed like she knew what she was doing, and even if this was the first time he came face to face with a hunter, he had heard the stories from his brothers, he knew how fucked up some of them could be, rivalling even the most sadistic demons in their ways. Not to mention that he had only been exorcised once, well – actually he managed to get away before the hunter finished the incantation, thanks to the Lord Commander, and it hurt even worse than being summoned for the first time. It was as if someone was tearing his soul (more specifically, what was left of it) from his body. Which made sense, because being exorcised meant that he was going to lose his body – problem was, he was fond of it, it was his human form, the only trinket from his previous life.

“You will tell me where the Lord Commander is. You will tell me how to summon him and you will not lie to me like that demented witch.”

 _Wait what_ … Jon was confused. But this – oh this he could actually use and avoid losing his body and be sent to the deepest pits of Hell. Plus it would also save him the embarrassment, as he would cease to be _“the crow that got away”_ , his brothers would definitely mock him for the next century if they got wind that he was bested by a baby hunter. So he played along.

“It’s not like I’m keeping tabs on him. A _bottom feeder_ like me wouldn’t know that.”

She wasn’t pleased. “Still, worth a try.” She took a deep breath, and he couldn’t help himself but stare at her breasts, the black cotton shirt making him imagine himself suckling at her tits. This time she definitely saw him, he was sure, as the left corner of her mouth quirked up in half a smile. _And was that her arousal he smelled?_ Jon licked his lips.

“You have to give me at least something,” she huffed, sounding exasperated. His newfound desire to please her pushed him to think of some piece of information he could give up.

“Why are you looking for him? It's not like he does the work himself, the Lord Commander rarely comes up for business,” he said, trying to inconspicuously pull on the rope around his wrists. “Any good hunter would know that, it’s something they teach even babies such as yourself.” He gave the tiniest of tugs – already the rope gave way – _so no special rope then_. He only needed to push her a bit more, and in no time he would be able to escape.

“What did you just call me?” She took a step closer to him, teeth baring like a bloodhound, reminding him of Ghost. _Gotcha_.

“I mean no offence, but your plan is shit,” he added, looking around the room. “Besides your idea to put the Devil’s trap in a less obvious place, the rest of it screams _amateur_.” He straightened his back and rolled his wrists in position, waiting for the right moment, “a crucifix, really? Like that would work on the Lord Commander. And Valyrian steel,” he said mockingly, glancing at the table, “true, it works on low level demons such as myself,” he lied, “but on the Lord Commander? Love, I’m so sorry, but that witch clearly wanted to you die,” he tsked, trying his best to match the tone she used when mocking him.

Her chest was heaving, “I’ll have you know that I have been a hunter for the past two years, I learned everything there is to learn about demons from my late husband and I won’t waste my time revealing my secrets to you,” she took yet another step forward, mostly yelling the next part, “a low life crow, going around and taking souls from innocent people!”

He instinctively leaned back on the chair, bracing himself for his next move. “What is it that has you so enraged with the Lord Commander? Last time he made a deal himself was centuries ago.”

“What… what did he do?!” She looked like she was about to combust. And he loved every second of it. Without delaying it any further, he tore the rope and in a flash he was on his feet, grabbing her wrists forcefully, and pulling her into his chest. He smirked, looking down at her.

For a microsecond, she looked so young, eyes big with regret, realising her mistake and impending demise. “Go on then, finish it.” She gulped. He wanted her to struggle, but she never did. She closed her eyes, tears adorning her luscious lashes. Something deep inside him lurched, right where his heart used to be, making him feel like a green boy again.

“I deserve to know the name of my captor,” he swallowed thickly, “‘tis only fair.”

“Daenerys Targaryen,” she whispered, stiffening in his arms, eyes still closed.

“Well, Daenerys, this is your lucky day. You stumbled upon the only demon stupid enough to let you live.” She opened her eyes, and up close they looked even more violet.

“Why would you do that?” She asked, staring back into his black eyes.

“Consider it as a once in a lifetime pass, a free gift. Let’s just say I have no love for witches, and letting you go would probably pissed them off,” he tried adding with a smirk, “plus, I have a thing for intimidating tiny women.”

This time she definitely smiled back. She inhaled, pushing her breasts into his chest, and his cock twitched in response. “I can’t accept such a gift. I insist, I must pay you back,” she stole a glance at his lips, “somehow.”

“I know what you’re trying to do,” he said suppressing a moan when she writhed again in his grip, “and it’s not working,” he lied, his balls hurting already. He couldn’t even remember the last time he fucked, nor the last time his cock was this hard.

“Kiss me,” she whispered, arching her neck upwards, getting as close to him as his clutch allowed her. He inhaled, and without thinking, he plunged for her mouth. His tongue dove deeper, and she moaned, emboldening him to do more. They were rushing through it as if there was no time. But it had been so long for him, that in that moment he couldn’t bring himself to slow down. Her lips were so soft and hot on his own, and she tasted like oranges and wine, reminding him of the life he had before, of his home.

He loosened his hold, almost begging that she wasn’t playing some sort of trick, and that she wanted him at least half as much he wanted her. When she didn’t stop the kiss, he almost wanted to cry in relief. With a motion of his right hand, he split one of the wooden beams in the ceiling, effectively breaking the neat Devil’s trap. Unhesitating, he lifted her off the floor, and pushed her back against the wall. He heard her squeal of surprise at his quick movements, followed by a deep moan, as her hand finally found his erection. He broke the kiss, resting his forehead to her own; he took his hands off her and put them on the wall, one on each side of her head. Her right hand did not stop her exploration, not that he was complaining, but he wanted her so badly it scared him. Her left hand soon joined, in an attempt to undo his belt and zipper, while also stroking his aching cock. He didn’t help, his hands still in the same place, both of them attentively watching her undress him. He would enjoy this for as long as he could, for this was surely madness and not meant to last, so he let her take the lead. She gave a strong pull on his trousers and his underpants, letting them fall on the dusty floor, his cock jerking out, thick and throbbing. He gasped. Daenerys looked at him with wide eyes, as if asking again for some sort of confirmation.

As she grabbed his shaft tightly, he shut his eyes, revelling in her touch. She started slowly stroking him, as if she wanted to see how long it would take for him to abandon all restraint and fuck her into the wall. But two could play this game. He dove for her neck, leaving a trail of scorching open mouth kisses from under her ear to her collarbone.

“Yes…” she breathed, when he gently dove his teeth in her milky skin. His hips bucked into her touch, but then she stopped, sinking her hands into his hair instead, pulling him further down to her. Resisting her was difficult, but he didn’t want to forget his force and hurt her somehow. Yet she looked like a goddess and at that moment he only wanted to bury himself in her, to taste her mouth endlessly, to stop denying himself like he had for the past century.

He stopped and took half a step back; she was panting, and his eyes involuntarily dropped to her breasts. She did not wait for him – she took off her shirt, and he lurched forward to press his lips to her cleavage. He nearly ripped her bra off her, not caring enough to detach his mouth from her breasts. They moaned in sync, as he finally unhooked the clasp, his mouth instantly attached to her left nipple. He sucked at her like a parched man who just had his first taste of water after being lost at sea. Encouraged by her loud moans, he scooped her up, bringing her at his level for better access, and Daenerys quickly hooked her legs around his waist for support. His mouth found hers for a quick kiss before he turned to her right tit to elicit more of those delightful moans from her. Her hands were pulling on his black hair as he ravished her. Daenerys stopped him from going back to her other breast; he went willingly into her scorching kiss.

“Stop stalling and fuck me, Jon Snow,” she commanded. With a shuddering breath, he released her feet to the ground, and turned her to face the wall. She went willingly, giving him control over the situation. His hands went to the zipper of her jeans, his teeth nipping gently at her left shoulder. Daenerys was less patient it seemed, because she pulled down on her jeans, and kicked them to the side. She also seemed to want to see him crumble, or at least he thought so, by the way she pushed her arse into him and pulled him down into a messy kiss over her shoulder. His hands couldn’t stop touching her – her neck, her breasts, her arse. Her cunt was dripping on his cock, coating it in her juices; he pulled back from the kiss to lick two fingers of his right hand, only to immediately search for her clit, slowly caressing it; she rested her forehead on the wall, and moaned audibly under his ministrations; it was suddenly too much, her lewd gestures almost making him come before he even got to fuck her.

Jon pulled back, loosening his tie. “Stop, or I’m gonna come. And I don’t want to do that yet,” he managed to say, his breath still laboured. She turned and nodded. “And I want to see you, I want you to look at me,” he added, suddenly shy, though he didn’t know why. He changed his eyes to their human form, but Daenerys put her hand on his left cheek, her soft voice pleading, “change them back, I want to see you – the real you.” He leaned into her touch, and did as she bid him. She smiled and pulled on his right hand to follow her to the bedroom.

But Jon stopped in front of the old love seat, and sat down, pulling her in his lap, facing him. Daenerys rose on her knees, and with her hand she aligned his cock to her slit. She looked him in his eyes as she sank down on him; her cunt was so tight and hot, it felt like he was bathing in boiling water. She slowly started riding him without breaking eye contact; she was gaining momentum and soon her movements became erratic. He was so enraptured, he could barely think of anything else but Daenerys; her eyes almost as inhumanly dark with lust as his; her plush lips that he could already imagine how good they would feel around his cock; the way her breasts moved while she rode him freely. He could feel her pulse quickening and his balls tightened in response, but he wanted to see her break apart before him. Jon licked his thumb and started rubbing her clit, helping her let go, “That’s it, Love, you’re so close,” he rasped. All of a sudden, she dug her nails into his shoulders, hanging on like her life depended on it. He thrusted up into her three more times before his vision went white, his own body getting submerged by the wave of pleasure crashing over them, the last spurt of his seed and his softening cock slowly bringing him down from his high.

He pulled her to his chest; Jon could feel her laboured breath on his neck, her nails still digging in his shoulders, her body was still spasming with her orgasm, and for a moment he felt human again. His eyes turned back to their human form, and he hugged her closer to his chest, letting her ride out the wave of sweet torture he inflicted on her. He stroked her hair, appreciating how it felt in his hands, all the while purring in her ear sweet nothings – “you’re absolutely gorgeous”, “you’re driving me insane”, “I want to spend the rest of my life between your legs, making you moan like that every day”, “my cock has been hard from the moment I saw you”, and she accepted them silently until he blurted “I want you to come with me.”

She pulled back to look at him, her eyes wide. “What?” she asked gently.

Maybe it had been a mistake to say such things out loud, but there was no going back, so he pushed, “I want you to come with me,” this time his tone sounding less like he was begging, “to Hell,” he added.

“You mean to take me to Hell?” she asked, her expression almost indifferent, but for her brows shooting up.

“Yes.” he offered. “I will not take your soul. You’ll not be a demon. There are ways for you to be with me,” he explained, searching for a hint in her eyes that his feelings were reciprocated, “if that’s what you want, of course,” he quickly added.

“Jon,” a shiver went through him as she breathed his name, “I… I don’t know what to say. Maybe we are getting ahead of ourselves here.” She was obviously struggling to find the right words, and he could not help but brace himself for a rejection. He tightened his grip on her hips. She closed her eyes and with a calming breath she said, “I enjoyed this, a lot… and although I’m sure I must be mad to develop feelings for a demon, I still have a mission – and it’s personal.” He wanted to tell her that she could trust him, but she moved her hands on his chest, stopping him from interrupting her, “You’re right, I am in more ways similar to a baby hunter, I never took to the family business, but that changed recently. Before my husband died, I discovered that the Lord Commander took something from my family centuries ago. I need to get that back; it is time I embraced my Targaryen ancestry. And until I do that, I cannot rest and I cannot let anything distract me. Not even you,” she added softly.

Disappointment coursed through his veins, feeling dejected, but then he realised her mistake. “I lied to you, although technically you were lied to before me, I just never corrected you.” She stiffened, looking as confused as when he first saw her. “The witch partially lied to you, the spell worked, you did get the Lord Commander.”

“No, that’s impossible,” she shook her head, “unless…” her eyes grew wide and she pulled back from him. He caught her wrists just in time, not letting her leave.

“Listen to me,” he rasped, “Commander Mormont was destroyed two decades ago, and with him, a lot of secrets were buried. While I do not know exactly what he took from you, I still have some of his old things, so I will help you out.” At seeing her unconvinced expression, he added, “unconditionally. Even if you refuse my offer.”

She didn’t fight him. He didn’t push for an immediate answer. Sighing, she finally said, “You could have killed me the moment I summoned you. You could have killed me when I foolishly trespassed the limits of the trap, but you didn’t.” She leaned in, and he closed his eyes, still feeling on his tongue the faint orange taste of her lips. “I’m not sure I am ready yet to commit to being your pretty princess to play with in the depths of Hell, but I will gladly come for a visit first. We’ll take it from there.”

He opened his eyes, staring right into hers, “You’d be my Queen,” and he brought her lips down onto his. His cock trapped between them, he felt it stir again when Daenerys started grinding on him.

She pulled back, making him open his eyes; she put his hands on each of her breasts, gently massaging them, “I want you to let go, Jon Snow. I want you to show me the real you,” she demanded.

So he did. He suddenly moved, and in the next moment, she was with her back on the table, spread open to him. Jon loomed over her, finally tugging on his tie and getting rid of his jacket and shirt. “Good, because I’m just getting started,” he growled, diving right for her cunt. She was all around him: her moans filled his ears, her hands were tugging on his hair, beckoning him closer and closer, the smell of her sweet cunt was invading his nostrils, and the only thing he could taste was her cunt mixed with his seed. He lavished at her folds, pushing her right leg further towards her, wanting to see her break. He hadn’t indulged in a woman’s cunt since long before he died, but he wanted to taste her ever since she got the first whiff of her arousal. He covered her slit with his entire mouth, gently pulling on her folds with his lips. She keep urging him on with “Yes”, “More”, “Don’t stop”, and with what sounded like High Valyrian, but her speech was getting too slurred for him to understand.

Jon could see her clit throbbing to get his attention, so he finally decided to push her further. He stopped to lick his thumb and he slowly started rubbing her clit, as he intensified his licks on her folds. He slowly stroked himself with his right hand, already wanting to push into her again. He resisted, insisting on her getting off first. When he heard her head dropping back on the table with a thud along with her faint plea – “please” – he stopped pumping his cock and inserted two fingers in her. Daenerys arched off the table, begging for more. He moved his mouth on her clit, sucking and teasing, while he started thrusting three fingers in her cunt. It didn’t take long after that, she seized up, her legs started shaking. He didn’t stop, but counted in his mind the seconds until her impending release. It took four more thrusts for her cunt to finally go over the edge, exploding all at once in his mouth, soaking his beard, yet he eagerly drank all she gave him.

He stopped, letting her ride her orgasm, and he slowly moved up, lightly peppering her skin with kisses on his way to her mouth; he took his time, paying attention to every inch of her body - above her cunt, her stomach, her tits, her clavicles, her neck, and finally – her mouth.

Daenerys drowsily smiled against his lips.

“Still want more?” he asked, hoping she would say yes. She nodded, kissing him again and pulling him to cover her entire body with his.

“But not like this,” she added in between kisses. She pushed him off, and rolled on her stomach, sliding to the edge of the table, her arse in the air, feet barely touching the ground. His cock twitched at the view, her cunt still sopping wet. He didn’t want to waste time, so he went closer to her, caressing her slit with the tip of his manhood, and pinching her arse cheeks. She pushed back into him, eliciting a groan when the head of his cock entered her. He slapped each round cheek twice, and she mewled, which only encouraged him to do it more times. His right hand went to her waist to pin her in place, his left stroking her red cheeks. Bracing for what was to come, Daenerys gripped the edges of the table with both hands, pushing back into him for a second time. Without delay, Jon thrust into her dripping cunt, until he was entirely engulfed in her.

He stopped, making sure Daenerys was still enjoying herself; then he felt her rotate her hips, as if to assure him. That’s all he needed to finally let go. Jon started thrusting into her, the table creaking and protesting under his maddening rhythm. He could barely hear Daenerys’ moans under his own grunts; he slapped her already red cheeks twice more; he could feel her cunt already fluttering around him, demanding more. So he did. Without stopping, he leaned over her, moulding his body to hers, and between groans he commanded her to “let go.” It took but a moment for his command to register, and Daenerys let go of the table, and he pulled her back up with him, his right hand pinching her nipples – first one, then the other, bringing her closer to another orgasm. He nibbled on her left earlobe, and then he felt it – a guttural noise left her mouth, so he chased right after her, finding his own release. As he felt the last spurt of his seed, he heard the old table give a last creak. In a flash, he pulled both of them back, the movement so sudden, they went tumbling down on the floor.

Daenerys erupted in laughter, her entire body shaking. He soon joined her, the absurdity of the situation not lost on him. Still laughing, she lifted herself on her feet, wincing slightly at the loss of his cock. She gasped. Assuming the worst, he shot up, only to see her mischievously shake her head at the pile of putrid wood that used to be her table. “It seems that you owe me a table, Lord Commander.”

He engulfed her in a tight embrace, “I’ll give you an entire castle.”

She playfully swatted his chest, “I’ll hold you up to that,” she added with a smile, “ _my Lord_.”

He pulled her closer, capturing her lips in a shuddering kiss, “Anything for _my Queen_.”

**Author's Note:**

> Whew!!! What a ride! ...
> 
> I'll be serving shots in the comments. Hope you had as much fun reading as I did writing it!


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